


Shut Up, I'm Getting To It

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Burns, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead People, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Good Morgana (Merlin), How Do I Tag, Hunters & Hunting, Injury, Injury Recovery, Like Seriously It's Gonna Be A While, M/M, Merlin Gets Some Friends, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, the slowest burn, will add tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22673698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I make you pancakes, I take you hunting, I talk to you as if you’rereally there.Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? Is this microphone live?Let me do it right for once,for the record, let me make a thing of cream and stars that becomes,you know the story, simply heaven.Richard Siken, Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out_______Merlin but now it’s gay and has friendship and explores the impact the purge had on magical society.
Relationships: Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 70





	1. Morgana's Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so this here prologue is very different in tone and probably writing style than the rest of the fic. It's more of a "What You've Missed" since I made one change to what happened in the show and it had a kind of domino/butterfly effect on a lot of other things. If you aren't interested in that, that's fair and you can skip this and go to the chapter right after this called Author's Note.

> Every morning the maple leaves.  
>  Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts  
>  from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big  
>  and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out  
>  _You will be alone always and then you will die._

\- Richard Siken, Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out  
_____________________  


Morgana’s life could be best described as one brilliant and brief moment of joy, followed by constant vicious longing to get back to that happiness.

Gorlois had been a bold man with a too-big beard and too-deep laugh lines. He was loud in court when he questioned injustices, loud when he bellowed a battle cry, loud when he laughed at the smallest of silly things. When he came back from a campaign Morgana would run out of their estate and leap up at him, and he’d lift her up in his arms and tell her how much heavier she’d gotten, how much she’d grown. Then she’d laugh and begin talking as fast as possible to tell her of the new trees she’d climbed and the books she’d read and the small adventures of a child that seem so big to them. He’d listen to every word and they’d go up the steps to where Vivienne was waiting for her husband and daughter to reach her.

Vivienne was a sweet opposite to her husband, solid and stone - steady through every political shift, every war, every storm. She embroidered stars on the hems of her nightgowns and had to wear gloves at court to cover the needle pricks because she wasn’t very good at it. She held a quiet dignity to her through every trial. Vivienne was most quiet when Gorlois came back from battle, overwhelmed with gratitude that her husband had come home to her alive and smiling.

They loved each other and they loved their daughter, and their daughter loved them and they were happy. Words of a purge rarely graced Morgana’s ears, she was far too preoccupied with her kingdom of toys and trees to care for the harsh whispers of visiting grown ups. Her world was a bubble, shiny and playful and pretty and perfect and home.

Then Vivienne fell down the stairs, and her skull popped the bubble right before it landed on the stone floor with a crack that skulls aren’t supposed to make. When Morgana was a baby she had liked to lay on her mother’s chest to listen to her heartbeat, a rhythm as steady as the woman herself. Later on, long days of learning to walk she’d sit on Vivienne’s lap while she embroidered and lay back, Vivienne’s breathing and heart and the needle passing through cloth to create messy little constellations making a whispered melody. The song was over now. The funeral was silent. The people were silent. Gorlois was silent. Nine year old Morgana was silent until she got to her room, where she cried until her head hurt and her throat ached. 

Gorlois — bold, laughing Gorlois — grew quiet. His smiles dimmed and his laugh lines went un-crinkled. His affection for Morgana never faded and he never grew negligent, but if his welcome-home hugs grew more scared and he held her hand a little tighter when they got near stairs then Morgana didn’t mention it. She tried climbing her favorite trees, but whenever she looked down she no longer took pride in her conquered land. Instead she wondered if her mother felt so high up when she fell. She stopped climbing. The estate felt a little less like home.

That winter it was too cold to climb the trees even if she’d wanted to. She stayed inside and sat at the feet of the maids, scribbling blotchy stars onto the hem of her dress with ink and a quill she’d taken from her father’s desk. But snowflakes and cold graves were no excuse for a general in wartime, and Gorlois was called off on campaign by the king. Snow and ice had started to melt into brown slush that got into Morgana’s boots when a group of men in uniforms less decorated than her father’s rode into the courtyard. They looked sad. The steward came out, and they spoke, then he looked sad too. He turned to look at Morgana, who’d been watching the exchange from the door, and she had the overwhelming feeling that she was going to feel very sad soon.

Her father’s body was burned, and the ashes were put in the ground, and her things were packed, and she was brought to Camelot. King Uther said he’d promised Gorlois he’d look after her, that she’d be living with him now as his ward. An esteemed lady of the court. And esteemed ladies of the court weren’t supposed to have inky stars on their skirts.

Uther didn’t have laugh lines. Morgana did not like him, and she did not like his decisions, and he was the reason her father was dead. His temper was short and his advisors were cobwebbed, slimy, or gold-gilded. Sometimes all three. Morgana used to be friends with her father’s servants and their children, but in Camelot she wasn’t supposed to be friends with anyone below her station and everyone was below royalty. She had a secret friend, a tired looking man named Gaius. He gave her medicines and made her feel better when she got sick. He let her sit in his quarters and he told her stories about things her parents did when they lived in the castle, how he had been friends with them and it was okay for her to miss them. She was allowed to play with Uther’s son, Arthur. He was one and three-quarters of a year younger than her, which meant she was infinitely wiser and better than him. Frankly, it was insulting that the only kid she could play with was a tiny boy with pudgy hands and a big nose. But then he gave her a drawing of some stars for her tenth birthday in the spring, so she decided Arthur wasn’t so bad even if he was a boy.

Camelot wasn’t happy though, Camelot wasn’t home no matter how many years she lived there. There were executions that gave her nightmares when she peaked at them out her window, and Arthur always had to stand still next to Uther and not throw up until he’d run back to his room. And that was their life. Lessons from tutors and lessons from Uther’s punishments and glares. One day Uther was mad because Morgana and Arthur had played knights in the gardens instead of going to lessons, so they hid in the back room of Gaius’ quarters and Arthur whispered with awe in his big, blue, bug eyes, “Can I tell you a secret? You have to promise to tell nobody forever,”

“Of course, Arthur,” because what could a silly ten year old boy possibly have to keep secret?

“I think you’re the best person to ever come to Camelot,” and a big smile nearly split his face in two, and Morgana thought the last time she’d seen someone smile at her like that was when she’d told Gorlois about the star she’d helped Vivienne add to her nightgown. And hiding there in the dusty, dim backroom with the boy she considered her brother, it felt a little like home.

When she turned thirteen she wasn’t allowed to play with Arthur anymore. It was impressive how you could live in the same castle as someone and only ever see them for a few minutes at meals before you were both whisked off to your different worlds. Arthur started learning to be a knight instead of a child. He grew into his nose and grew out of his bug eyes and the wonder he kept in them. He got longer limbs and a bigger ego. When she tried to talk with him like before, he scoffed. When she tried to ask him why he wouldn’t spend time with her anymore he turned up his no-longer-too-big nose and said “I have duties to attend to,” and when did he start sounding so condescending? But it was fine. She didn’t need some pompous prince to be her friend. She’d gotten a maid servant her own age named Guinevere, and she liked her a lot. They were even friends, so when they were on their own Morgana could call her Gwen. And if she had strange dreams sometimes, it was fine because dreams happen and nothing can be done about it. And if Gaius stopped letting her hide in his quarters, it was fine because she needed to grow up. And if Uther’s temper was short and the court members stared at her and she ached for meals with Gorlois and Vivienne instead of Uther and wanted to hide from court duties to play knights with Arthur and she just wanted to have a home, it was fine. The king’s treasured ward was of age, a grown woman and member of the royal family of Camelot, the bloodiest kingdom in Albion. And a woman like that can’t be caught dead with stars on her dress.

Time passed, like it always does and like it always will, but there seemed to be a distinct stutter and splutter in it one morning while Arthur was throwing daggers at his most recent manservant. That night Gwen told her how a peasant boy had told Arthur off and even thrown a punch, how Arthur had sent the boy to jail for his disrespect. The next day Gwen told her excitedly how the boy had been moved to the stocks instead and his name was Merlin and he was really quite funny. Morgana didn’t know him, but she liked him. Then she did know him, and she liked him a great deal more. She’d saved Arthur’s life and been appointed as his manservant on top of his job as Gaius’ apprentice, so she saw him stumble-sprinting around the castle and trailing after Arthur all the time.

Merlin’s smile was bright enough rival Gorlois’, and twice as fast to reveal itself. He always had a moment to spare and an ear to lend. He was a dear friend to Gwen, and treated Morgana not as an object to be desired or a representative of Camelot, but as a person. She soon considered him a dear friend. He pissed Arthur off to no end and knocked him down a few pegs, which instantly made him worthy of wealth beyond man’s imagination in Morgana’s opinion. But their relationship wasn’t purely animosity. Merlin treated Arthur like a human being, he didn’t put him on some untouchable and uncriticizable pedestal. He didn’t let Arthur get away with, as Merlin so eloquently phrased, “prat” behavior. In spite of his criticism, Merlin was fiercely loyal to Arthur. He never gossiped, he always offered encouragement, and he’d risked his own life for Arthur’s many times. Not that Arthur hadn’t demonstrated similar loyalty to Merlin, protecting Merlin from Uther’s wrath and going to great lengths to keep his clumsy servant safe from whatever trouble the duo had gotten themselves in.

“I must admit,” Morgana said while she, Gwen, and Merlin were in her chambers. Gwen was getting some sewing done and Merlin was polishing Arthur’s armor, “I don’t quite understand your relationship with Arthur,”

“Which part? The massive list of chores or the ungodly amount of hunts he drags me on?” there was faint forced mirth in the words, like he was trying to dismiss the topic as nothing serious. Which obviously meant it was serious.

“The part where you insult him to his face but will never start rumors about him. The part where you drink poison for him but steal his wine. The part where you criticize and correct his actions, but remain loyal and true no matter what,”

Merlin paused his polishing, but didn’t lift his head, “Well I,” he stopped and his brow furrowed as he looked into his reflection in the helmet in his hands. Gwen lifted her eyes from the dress in her hands.

“I guess I just expect more from him,” Merlin restarted after a few moments, “I know he can be more than some condescending bastard. Hell, I’ve _seen_ him be more than a condescending bastard. He’s got a good heart, beneath it all. It’s just nobody told him it was okay to use it,”

Morgana thought back to a smaller Arthur with bigger eyes and smaller hands, always carrying a sweet for her too whenever he stole from the kitchens. Now there was a bigger handed Arthur in the council room, arguing against raising taxes so that his people could afford food.

“I think you may be right,”

Her dreams got worse, in every sense of the word. They became more frequent, they became scarier, and they became real. She knew Sofia was bad, she knew the questing beast would attack, she knew and she knew and she knew and one night she woke up and set her curtains on fire. She had magic, it was the only explanation anymore, it was the only thing that made sense. But it can’t be magic, because magic gets people killed in Camelot and she’d learned that the first time Uther had announced the capture of a magic user and all the color had drained from Arthur’s face. But when Gaius lies to her and tells her that it was all in her head she felt no better for the denial. And then Merlin comes to her quarters and says,

“You have magic,” and her heart bursts in joy and fear and sorrow because _[I’m not crazy,]_ and _[I’m going to die,]_ and _[I'm alone,]_. Then Merlin whispers words in a language she knows and doesn’t know at all and a flower is appearing in his hand,

“And so do I. You’re not alone,”

So he sneaks to her room some nights to teach her spells and ways to control her magic, and they read Merlin’s spellbook and laugh at Merlin’s stories of love spells cast on Arthur until they reach the part where the stories aren’t funny and Arthur almost dies.

“That’s where we come in,” Merlin explains that first night that he tells her of prophecy and assasination and snakes and a dragon beneath the castle, “we’re all that stands between Arthur and all sorts of murderous bastards. And I’ve been doing a pretty alright job if I do say so myself,” and Morgana laughed as he’d intended, “but now that there’s two of us we’ll be so much better! And working together we can understand your dreams and save so many lives,”

“Do you really think we can manage this? Two magic users living and using magic in secret in the household of Uther Pendragon?”

“I know we can,” and he looked so full of belief that she believed too.

She didn’t tell Gwen, because Gwen had lost her father and didn’t need more burdens or knowledge that could earn her the same fate. She didn’t tell anyone, but Gaius knew because Merlin told him and he apologizes for lying, says he thought that ignorance would protect her. She tries to understand, and to Gaius that is enough.

Merlin was right, working together to protect their home was much more efficient(“It’s already taken an interest in my jewelry, we can use that to trap it,”) and both were relieved to have someone watching their back(“Morgana what the _hell_ is that bracelet Morgause gave you and why is it enchanted so much? It’s awful. Magical equivalent of cheese smell. For the love of Gwen, get rid of it,”). A good deal of their time was, of course, spent looking out for Arthur(“That bracelet the old woman gave Arthur for luck-” “Cheese smell?” “Fishy, too. You should go after him, I had a dream with a stone like that,”), but there is some great, undescribable comfort in knowing you are not alone in a world that could turn on you in an instant(“There was nothing you could have done to save her, Merlin. You did the best you could,”).

It is some time later that Morgana is on her way up the stairs to Gaius’ quarters when Morgause appears in her path. Her natural reaction is to blast that conniving bitch into the nearest and hardest wall, but the spell dissipates around Morgause into a light breeze that softly teases her hair.

“I see you’ve discovered your talents,”  
“Burn in hell, you tried to make Arthur kill his father and when that failed you tried to kill him,”

“That’s rather crude. I tried to kill Uther and free our people of his tyranny. Don’t you wish to be free?”

“Don’t play games with me Morgause, I know what you’re planning and you won’t win,” she may have been slightly bluffing. She’d dreamed of a cup, an army, and a battle. Not exactly a detailed vision, but it seemed bad. She was on her way to see Merlin and Gaius to try and understand, but of course Morgause was going to intrude.

“You can win, too. We should be standing together,”

“Why, because we have magic?”

“No, Morgana. Because we are sisters,”

Morgana’s thoughts came to a screeching halt, “What?”

“Gorlois and Vivienne were my parents too, I was taken away to train with the high priestesses when I was an infant,” Morgause stepped forward, “But I am your sister, no matter how far apart we were raised we are still family,”

 _[Sister I have a sister I have -]_ kept repeating in Morgana’s head. She wasn’t the only child of her parents. She’d been told that she’d had an older sibling who had died as an infant, so the claim wasn’t baseless. But it couldn’t be. But if it were true...

She remembered Arthur playing tag with her in the gardens, Gwen gossiping and laughing with her as they went about their day, Merlin’s grin when Morgana successfully cast her first spell.

Morgana’s eyes became steel, “Family is not defined by blood. Step aside or I will make you,” 

For a moment there was sorrow in Morgause’s eyes, mourning for what could have been. Then they were hollow, and Morgana’s feet were off the steps and she had scarcely a moment to think _[I don’t feel high up at all]_ before the world went black.

Morgana stood at Cenred’s right hand with an engagement ring on her left hand and Uther in chains and jester’s clothes being beaten on the floor at their feet. Morgause had known much about Morgana, and while she hadn’t hesitated to expose the Pendragon blood in her veins she never said a word about the magic in them too. Morgana wanted to ask Morgause so much, _[Why were you taken away? Why didn’t you tell me before? Why ally yourself with Cenred?]_ , but it’s difficult to question a corpse.

Unkillable soldiers led by Cenred had broken down her door, and she and Gwen had feigned joy at liberation from Uther’s tyranny. Cenred had told her that Uther was her father, unaware that Morgana had already learned that while she was injured. She fully intended to have a breakdown over her parentage at some point, but it had been put on hold until further notice since Cenred had invaded shortly after she’d recovered and then he was putting a ring on her finger. When she’d asked where his partner Morgause was, he’d said,

“Dumb whore let slip that I didn’t need any magic of hers to maintain the immortality. Ran her through before she could say another word,”

He’d patted the hilt of the sword in his belt with a greasy smile, and she wanted to throw up.

The bile still hadn’t gone down now, four days into Cenred’s occupation. Instead of taking the easy route and killing Uther immediately, he’d decided to keep the man as entertainment until his and Morgana’s wedding. Then he’d be executed as a wedding gift to his bride.

“Won’t it be delightful, pet? The pig that denied you your birthright, bleeding when you finally get it? Simply poetic,” and he looked over Gwen predatorily, because even as he poorly pretended to be a good fiance he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering.

 _Delightful_ didn’t seem the right word for watching the man who’d apparently conceived you being kicked and laughed at by enemy soldiers on the floor. _Delightful_ didn’t seem the right word for her people being executed. _Delightful_ didn’t seem the right word for getting no word from Merlin or Arthur or anyone who’d escaped. _Delightful_ didn’t seem right at all.

That night, Morgana sat on the bed in her chambers and told Gwen how to free Leon. They lie and Cenred believes them, and Gwen goes down to the dungeons and Morgana wants to laugh in Cenred’s face while they dine because _[You fool, did you think Camelot’s people would be conquered as easily as their citadel?]_. Her stomach stops churning and hope fills her chest. Then Cenred leads her to a balcony where they can easily see Gwen and Leon hurrying away from the citadel and the hope plummets into her stomach and starts the sick feeling all over again.

“It’s a great betrayal, I know, to be turned on by one so close to you. But fear not, pet. I’m having them followed. Their victory will be short,”

Morgana throws up a little in her mouth, but swallows it back down to smile at Cenred like a good fiance.

It’s not long after that that Arthur takes back the citadel. The cup is destroyed and all the soldiers with it. Uther lives, but he is not the same. A husk. Arthur becomes regent. Morgana is officially made a princess before the court, and Arthur tells her she was already a sister to him. There are new knights whose only nobility is in their hearts and actions, not their blood. She likes Lancelot the most, he knows about Merlin’s magic and is kind when he learns of hers. He’s quite possibly the only man to exist who is worthy of courting Gwen, as he insists on not hiding the magic from her. He wouldn’t feel right pursuing a relationship with her if he wasn’t telling her the whole truth. Morgana is quick to agree, but Merlin takes slightly more convincing.

“I understand why you want to do this, but think of the risks. If any of us get caught she’ll be burned for just associating with us,”

“Be honest Merlin, that would happen regardless of whether or not she knew. She’s been accused of sorcery before and even if it was disproved then, it certainly won’t help her case.” Morgana was sitting comfortably in one of the chairs of the secret room(Merlin called it “the treason library”) the goblin had been in, “If we all do go up in flames she has a right to know why,”

Lancelot sighed in his seat, “Can we not discuss this like it’s certain? You haven’t been caught yet. You’ve been careful and nobody suspects either of you of anything,”

“ _Yet,_ ” Merlin echoed. He raked a hand through his hair before his shoulders drooped, “If you both are absolutely certain then I won’t stop you. Gwen doesn’t seem the type to report us but -”

“She won’t,”

Merlin searched their faces, looking for the slightest hint of doubt. There was none.

Getting Gwen to the treason library was surprisingly easy. A couple vague words about needing to show her something with a few pleas for faith and voila, her jaw was on the dusty floor.  
“And this is all...magical?”

“Well, not everything is exactly magical. A lot of the books are about magic but they aren’t enchanted themselves,” Merlin shrugged, looking completely calm and casual as he leaned against a wall. If Morgana hadn’t heard him worrying before then she wouldn’t have any idea how terrified he was.

“Should...should we be doing something about it?” Gwen looked confused. But to be fair, her best friends and potential paramour had brought her to a treason library with no real explanation. 

Lancelot spoke softly, “We haven’t done anything. It’s not hurting anyone. If anything it’s good to have information on magic,”

“I know. I’m just kind of nervous,”

“About what?”

“We could be killed for knowing about this, Lancelot,”

“But you aren’t nervous about magic itself?” His smile was small, but present.

“Well…I suppose not,” Gwen hesitated. Morgana nodded, encouraging her to speak more.

“I mean, we all know the druids live in peace. And they have magic.” Her eyes fell to the floor, “My father didn’t have magic. But he was suspected of it and that was enough for Uther to have him murdered. And I know in my heart that he can’t have been the only innocent to be killed. How could Uther’s laws on magic be good or right if so many innocent people are slaughtered by them?”

Merlin’s eyes damn near glowed with hope, “So if someone you knew had magic, they were born with it and they had no choice in it, you wouldn’t hate them?”

Gwen looked almost offended, “No, of course I wouldn’t hate them! Nobody should be treated differently because of the circumstances of their birth, you all know I believe that,”

The room went silent. Merlin seemed frozen. Lancelot smiled and moved to sit down in one of the chairs. Morgana stepped ever so slightly closer, smiling timidly.

“Gwen, I have something to tell you,”

Gwen’s eyes widened, realizing why they’d brought her there. Morgana cupped her hands in front of her and whispered “Blostma,”. A tiny lavender bud unfurled in her palm. It was beautiful. Gwen reached forward, her fingers hovering over the tiny plant.

“It’s alright, you can touch,” Morgana lifted her hands ever so slightly higher. Gwen picked up the bud, eyes alight with wonder. 

“I...uh...me too,” Merlin awkwardly lifted his hand, a tiny ball of blue light forming, “I’ve got magic,”

Gwen giggled, “Somehow that’s less surprising,”

And they spent the rest of the night telling her everything. They told her of sorcerers and assassins, spells and potions, destiny and their clandestine adventures. And as Morgana looked around the ancient room full of the people she trusted most, she didn’t think she was quite home yet. But she was close.  
___________

> Down the alley, around the arcade,  
>  up the stairs of the building  
>  to the little room with the broken faucets, your drawings, all your things,  
>  I looked out the window and said  
>  _This doesn’t look that much different from home_ ,

\- Richard Siken, Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out


	2. Author's Note

Salutations!

I'll keep the fluffy sentimental parts brief: I've been thinking about this fic for ages and I'm really nervous and happy about it finally being out(even if it's just a prologue and author's note for now). I'm very happy that you're reading it. It means a lot.

ANYWAY

I changed one major thing in the show and that set off a kind of domino/butterfly effect and I don't have the patience to set aside my main story for the sake of writing an entire fic rewriting Season 2. So here's whats changed:

  * Morgana is good. Merlin told her about his magic and helped/is helping her control her own. They protect Camelot together. It's great.
  * The Knights of Medhir never attacked. I always guessed that Morgause had used Morgana for the sleep spell through the bracelet, and in my Alternative Season 2 Morgana got rid of that thing. So Morgause wasn't able to make Camelot have one massive nap time and the knights are still sitting around in Idirsholas.
  * Kilgarrah is still in the cave. When Kilgarrah told Merlin that Morgana was bad news and shouldn't be helped, Merlin basically told him to go fuck himself. They haven't spoken since then, since Kilgarrah had already been pretty shady and Merlin just didn't need that kind of negativity in his life. Kilgarrah will be around, just not immediately.
  * Morgause is dead. Cenred killed her after she cast the immortality spell with the cup since he didn't need her anymore. I know in the show Morgause said her magic was necessary for the spell, but in this fic she was only needed for the spell one time. The rest of the whole immortal army thing went pretty much the same as it did in the show, except Uther's all messed up now because of his treatment from Cenred and not from Morgana's betrayal.
  * Lancelot knows about Morgana's magic. They told him after they reclaimed Camelot. He's cool about it.
  * Gwen knows about Morgana and Merlin's magic. Lancelot refused to court her unless he could be completely honest with her about everything, and since Morgana and Merlin are the #1 and #2 Gwencelot shippers in Alternate Season 2 they decided to tell her. She's cool about it.
  * Morgana's lineage was revealed during Cenred's temporary reign, and after Camelot was reclaimed Arthur made her an official princess.
  * Arthur is currently Regent since Uther is out of commission. Uther's alive, but he isn't able to do 90% of his duties. He and his laws on magic are still a threat, but for the most part Arthur is in charge.
  * Arwen never was, isn't, and never will be. If you want Arwen, go read a Lord of the Rings fic.



Got it? Great!

Also, updates are going to be super sporadic because I've got college and work and at least 4 hours of sleep each night. But I will never abandon this fic! Even if some updates take forever, there will always be an update. Death itself shall not stop me.

So yeah, thanks for deciding to read this. Much appreciation to you.


	3. Chapter 1: The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hunt with the boys, good times all around. Crack open a cold one. Nothing goes wrong. Absolutely nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this one's got some stuff happening that might upset some folks, I updated the fic tags but I’m going to put a little thing saying what happens at the end notes.

> They weren’t animals but they looked like animals, enough like animals to make it confusing, meant something but the meaning was slippery: it wasn’t there but it remained, looked like the thing but wasn’t the thing—was a second thing, following a second set of rules—and it was too late: their power over it was no longer absolute.

\- Richard Siken, The Language of the Birds  
_______________

Although riding a horse through the woods after dark with a bunch of smelly knights and smellier animal corpses isn’t Merlin’s favorite way to spend a friday night, it certainly isn’t the worst pastime he could think of. That doesn’t mean he has to have a good time.

As far as hunting parties went, this one was pretty good. The only knights riding were Leon and the Not Nobility Knights. However, a hunting party is still for hunting and any joy Merlin had from going out with his friends was killed just as quickly and efficiently as the rabbits strapped to his horse. As the only servant on the trip, Merlin had been tasked with carrying their dinner. Riding at the back of the group and not talking to anyone is also technically part of his job as a servant, but Merlin was doing that as an act of protest. Doesn’t matter that Arthur appeared to have taken his manservant’s silence in stride and was chatting away happily with Leon at the front. Merlin’s playing for the long game.

At least Gwaine and Lancelot have noticed. Lancelot kept turning every few minutes to look at Merlin with an expression that said, “ _I have no idea what the fuck is going on, and I’m not sure if I should intervene yet but I’m kind of concerned_ ,”, as if looking back enough would make Merlin explain his behavior. Gwaine only looked back once before slowing his horse down to walk next to Merlin’s. Then it was just a waiting game until -

“So what did the Princess do?” Gwaine leaned closer to Merlin, on the edge of falling out of his saddle, “You’ve been way to quiet for him to have done nothing,”

“He ignored me,” Merlin mumbled. He didn’t want to appear too talkative or there would’ve been no point in staying quiet for all of Arthur’s chore list monologue.

“I’m not surprised, he is a jackass. But why is silence the punishment? Normally when you try and teach someone a lesson you don’t give them what they want,”

“Annoying him by talking hasn’t worked in the past, I’m trying a new strategy,”

“I don’t think it’s working, Merls,”

“Patience is a virtue, Gwaine,”

“Ah, I’m afraid I don’t have many of those,” Gwaine laughed, and in spite of his best efforts Merlin did smile a little. 

“That may be true, I don’t see how anyone virtuous could stomach these hunts,”

“The entertainment is kinda shit but at least there aren’t any of the stiffs from court here,”

“Isn’t Leon technically a stiff?”

“Yeah but he’s not all bad. There is a chance to save him from perpetual boringness,”

“So in this metaphor is he a dying man or a fresh corpse?”

“Whichever one gets the biggest rise out of him,”

And that got a full laugh out of Merlin, much to Gwaine’s apparent delight. 

Elyan fell back a little until he was close enough to be heard without speaking loudly, “I heard Leon’s name and if we’re talking shit I have so much to say,”

“How about we don’t do that since we’re all going to be sleeping around the same fire tonight?” Lancelot whispered harshly, pulling his horse back too.

“You’re courting my sister, I have power over you,”

“Oh I _dare_ you to say that around Gwen,”

“I’ll give you fifteen gold and personally carry you to Gaius’ quarters after,”

“Do any of you realize that four out of the seven people in this group are back here?”

“Five now, why is Gwaine carrying Elyan to Gaius?” Percival added from his new place by Lancelot.

“Oh for-” Merlin pinched his nose, “Arthur and Leon are going to notice that we’re all clustered back here,”

“Last I heard they were very absorbed in talking about strategies in first-blood duels, it was very boring,”

“Hey, strategy is important!”

“Shut it, stiff,”

“I’m not a stiff, Leon’s a stiff,”

“Are you talking about me?” Leon yelled from ahead.

“Why the hell are you all so far back?” Arthur added, “Hurry up, the sun will be setting soon and I’d rather we make it to a good camping spot before dark,”

“Jeez, Lancelot. Way to spoil the fun,” Elyan teased before nudging his horse to trot back ahead.

“Yeah Lance, why’d you say that?” Percival prodded, “You know we’re all sleeping around the same fire tonight,” then he made his mare ride forward.

“Wow, such betrayal at the hands of your friends.” Gwaine said somberly, “Can’t trust anyone these days,” He rolled his shoulders and turned to Lancelot, “Ah well, guess that’s just how it is, aye stiff?” He winked, laughing and riding forward as the most noble knight tried to swat at him.

“Dicks,” Lancelot muttered under his breath, making Merlin snort. Lancelot smiled for a moment before growing serious, “Seriously Merlin, are you alright? You were really quiet earlier, I was a little worried,”

“Of course you were worried, you mother hen,” Merlin rolled his eyes and pushed his friend a little with his elbow, “I’m fine. I was trying to see if Arthur would listen to me if I went silent for a while,”

“He didn’t listen to you about something?”

“Does he ever?” Merlin half-joked, “It’s not something big this time. I just don’t like these hunts,”

“Why?”

“Would you like the reasons listed alphabetically or by order of importance to the safety of the prince regent?”

“I’ll just take your word for it. But you have to admit that it’s good for us to get out from behind the castle walls once in a while,”

“I know it is, I just...I’ve got a bad feeling about this one,”

Lancelot’s brow furrowed, “A regular bad feeling or a _bad feeling_?”

“I don’t know, I can’t always sort the two out.” Merlin raked a hand through his hair, “I just don’t like this,”

Lancelot nodded, “It’s okay, I’ll keep an eye out just in case,”

Merlin smiled weakly, “Thank you, Lance,”

“Anytime,”

Arthur told them to make camp when they reached a clearing near the river, by which he meant Merlin should build a fire, set up the tents, tend to the horses, and prepare the food. What it actually meant was Merlin would build a fire while Percival tended to the horses(if anyone asked, he was just petting them), Elyan skinned the rabbits(if anyone questioned him why he was doing servants work, it was a habit from his lower class childhood), and Lancelot set up the tents. Nobody ever asked Lancelot why, whenever they approached him he glared so hard that they would start helping him. The only thing difference today was Merlin’s relative silence.

“Tell me, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur sat beside Merlin when the rabbits were cooking over the flame, “Your incessant rambling has been graciously missing today. What miracle happened to shut you up?”

“Hmm,”

“Come on,” Arthur teased, lightly kicking the other’s leg, “You know I’ll figure it out,”

Merlin turned to level a glare that had sent skilled assassins and fearsome sorcerers running. Arthur just grinned.

“Let’s see,” the prince regent leaned forward, “You won’t speak to me but on the ride here you were in the back whispering with the others, so it’s definitely something I’ve done. You dragged your feet around when we were getting ready to leave Camelot, in fact you’ve been all morose ever since…”

His eyes widened a little, “Come now Merlin, you can’t be this annoyed over a hunt?”

Merlin bit his tongue and shifted a little.

“You _are_!” Arthur laughed, leaning back, “Aww, do you not like being away from the cozy castle?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about being out here,” Merlin mumbled.

“He speaks!”

Arthur sat there for a few seconds, staring at Merlin like he expected him to say more, but there was nothing. The warlock just turned the rabbits over the crackling fire. Cicadas buzzed under the darkening sky. A little away from the fire, Lancelot laughed at something Leon said. Arthur huffed out a breath,

“Why do you have a bad feeling?”

“I just…” Merlin chewed his lip, “I can’t describe it right, I don’t have the right words for it. But sometimes I feel like something is coming. Like the way you feel water move when something swims past you. Except the water is bad. Or the thing swimming is bad. And it’s swimming towards you, and it feels like coming out here is us swimming closer.” Merlin pushed out a breath and rubbed his hand over his eyes, “I know it’s weird and you think it’s stupid but I can’t get rid of it,”

A little of the mockery left Arthur’s face, “Merlin, you are surrounded by six of the greatest warriors in the land. I don’t think you have to worry about any doom fish,”

A shout tore through the air followed by the shiny squelch of metal through skin.

“We’re under attack!” Gwaine yelled as he ran into the clearing, bare sword smeared with gore.

As one the knights stood and drew their swords just as hooded figures jumped into the clearing and ran for the knights, swords and daggers glinting in the firelight. 

“Doom fish!” Merlin hissed as Arthur yanked Merlin behind him by his neckerchief.

Arthur ran through one of the bandits, the body hitting the ground with a disturbingly light thud, “Of course you start talking when I want you to shut up,”

Arthur locked onto a new fighter, but another raced at Merlin. Merlin picked up a mostly-unburnt log from the fire, the far end of it still smoldering. The bandit swung. Merlin ducked. Merlin sidestepped. The bandit followed. Merlin swung the log into the bandit’s head. The man screamed and dropped his sword, pawing at the tiny flames. Merlin choked on the smell of burning hair. He saw Leon fighting two bandits that were backing him up towards the river.

His eyes flashed gold, “ _Gliddrian_ ,” and the two tripped, giving Leon the edge to cut through one and push the other back. Hands suddenly gripped his arm and pushed the log down towards Merlin’s leg. He resisted, turning his head to see the burnt bandit hunched over Merlin’s arm, singed dark green hood shadowing his face. Something dark glittered in his eyes. Smoke drifted off his hood.

A kick and Merlin was knocked off balance. The burning log glanced off his leg, pain ripping through his calf. He knocked his elbow into green hood’s chest and fell back, desperately patting the flames on his pants out as he tried not to scream from pain. Green hood picked up his sword. Then he looked around. All six knights still stood, cloaked in crimson. Eight men were on the ground, splattered with crimson. Green hood’s face curdled, barking a strange word before running back into the trees. The remaining bandits quickly ditched their fights and ran into the woods. As the last man vanished Merlin cried out and bent over, the full force of the pain replacing the high of combat. He heard voices shouting his name but they sounded garbled and distant. He just _hurt_ , and maybe if he slipped away for a short moment he wouldn't feel so -

“MERLIN!”

The warlock snapped back to the world. There was a wet cloth on his leg. He smelled burned rabbit. Arthur knelt in front of him, hands tight on his shoulders.

“Are you with me?”

Merlin nodded, still half numb.

“You’re the closest we have to a physician, how do we fix this?”

“In- in my bag. There’s a white salve. Glass jar,” Merlin winced.

“Percival,” Arthur nodded, and Merlin heard more than saw the knight get up from somewhere near him. Arthur sat back, releasing his servant.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like someone knocked a chunk of burning wood into my leg,”

“Guess he was pissed you knocked him around,” Gwaine tried to joke, but his voice was a little too wet to be funny.

“Must’ve been,” Merlin tried to humor him.

“You did well, Merlin,” Leon said softly, “If you weren’t there then he would’ve gotten to Arthur,”

“Do I get a knighthood now?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur scoffed, relaxing a little as Percival returned and passed him the salve. “Do I just put this on it?”

“Yeah, I can do it if you like,”

“I can do it,” Arthur removed the cloth and began delicately applying globs of salve to the burn. It was big, maybe the size of his hand. If Merlin didn’t spend damn near every second of every day with him, he would’ve missed the fear in Arthur’s gaze. “Will you be alright?”

“Probably. It hurts like hell so it can’t go too deep,”

“Worse burns don’t hurt?” Elyan tilted his head slightly.

“Well, they hurt but not in the way you’d think. More of a punch feeling than a burning one,”

“Why?”

“I dunno, just is,”

“In that case, much as I never thought I’d say this, I’m glad you feel pain,” Lancelot moved next to Merlin and slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Thanks mate, I appreciate it,”

“Is this good?” Arthur gestured to the burn, now buried in salve.

“If anything you covered it too well. But it’s fine -” Merlin added, seeing Arthur glance down at the wound in panic, “ just get me some of the bandages from my bag and I’ll tie it up,”

“Will you be able to travel tonight?”

“In theory, yeah. Why?”

“It’s best not to linger here.” Leon said as Percival brought the bandages, “We don’t know if they’ll come back,”

“Besides, we should probably get Gaius to take a look at that,” Gwaine nodded towards Merlin’s leg as he loosely wrapped the bandages around it.

“Good call.” Merlin finished tying off the cloth, “I’m good to go,”

“We’re mostly packed, you just head to your horse and we’ll handle the rest,” Arthur nodded to his knights and they dispersed, each going to finish off some task. Lancelot helped Merlin up to his feet and wrapped Merlin’s arm around his shoulders, helping him move to the horses.

“I know I was out of it but I didn’t think I was that way long enough to pack up so much,”

“You underestimate the power of scared knights that feel helpless. You were only gone for a few minutes, but I’ve never seen them all move so quickly,”

“Didn’t think you all cared so much,”

“We really do, you know,”

“Of course you turn a joke into a sappy moment,”

“It’s a talent,”

Merlin hit Lancelot’s chest with his free hand, but when he turned to see his friend laughing his eye caught on one of the bandit’s bodies. Lancelot sobered when he saw where Merlin was looking, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I just think I see something” He squinted and leaned towards the body. The man’s shirt had ridden up his side, exposing the hungry outline of ribs and the deep slice that had killed him. But beneath the blood around the wound there was something dark, a part of discolored skin. It was too dark to be a regular bruise and he could’ve sworn it was in the shape of... 

“ _Fuck_ ,”

The cut went through a druid tattoo.

_______________

> They huddled closer, shoulder to shoulder, painted themselves in herds, all together and apart from the rest. They looked at the sky, and at the mud, and at their hands in the mud, and their dead friends in the mud. This went on for a long time.

\- Richard Siken, The Language of the Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING CONTENT: sword fights, blood, burns, cuts. like, cuts that killed a man. the blood and burns are semi-explicit.  
> _____  
> Hi! I hope you liked this chapter(the first official chapter, yay!). I tried my best to get something of the knights' personalities established, I hope you like them so far! 
> 
> In other news, writing fight scenes is super hard. Like, wow. I knew it would be difficult but that was Rough. I think I got the point across, though.
> 
> Comments are the greatest thing on this planet and I will love you for writing them. I mean, I already love you for reading this but you'll get extra love for commenting. The pure serotonin that shoots into my brain when I see comments is powerful enough to kill god. Tell me what you think so far! Your favorite scene, favorite bit of dialogue, what you think I can improve on, anything.
> 
> Until next time!


	4. Chapter 2: On Bursting Chests and Burnt Legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaining understanding of the world around us often, if not always, involves going into a part of the world we do not understand. Although it is necessary, this does not make it pleasant to think about or do.
> 
> Wow that sounded pretentious. Here's a new chapter.

> You, created only a little lower than  
> The angels, have crouched too long in  
> The bruising darkness,  
> Have lain too long  
> Face down in ignorance.

\- _Maya Angelou, On The Pulse of the Morning (also referred to as The Rock Cries Out To Us Today)_

__________________________

“Are you certain this is wise?”

“It’s not my favorite plan but it’s the only one we’ve got,” Merlin shrugged as he watched Gaius replace his bandages. The hunting party’s return that morning had been calm if you ignored the palpable terror the knights radiated whenever Merlin so much as winced. Upon arriving Percival had practically carried Merlin to Gaius’ quarters with the little flock of red cloaks in tow. 

“For some reason I don’t find that reassuring,” Gaius quipped. Since Merlin had arrived with a relatively well-managed burn, the healer had been much more collected than everyone else. Honestly there wasn’t much more that could be done for the burn than apply salve, keep bandages on for a while, and wait. All that could help was general wound maintenance and time. About 6 weeks of it, to be precise.

“Well, being attacked by a druid isn’t ‘reassuring’ either. There’s a good chance more of the men who attacked us were druids, maybe all of them,”

“I know, but I wonder if wandering into the woods in search of them isn’t going to end well for you. Especially with your leg,”

6 weeks of hobbling around on an injured leg wasn’t very appealing to Merlin. Some of those weeks being spent wandering the woods in search of a druid camp sounded even worse.

“The man had a druid tattoo, Gaius, I need to know if he was on his own,” Merlin made his best puppy eyes in hopes of convincing his mentor.

“He probably was, Merlin.” Gaius finished wrapping and stood. 

“And if he wasn’t?” Merlin gave up on the puppy eyes as Gaius crossed the room, “What if some druids got tired of the prophecy? What if they’re done with waiting for peace? A druid attacked Emrys and the Once and Future King, Gaius. That means something and I need to know what,”

Gaius returned with a tall walking stick in hand, “I understand your fear,” he turned the staff over in his hands, “but you’ll be abandoning Arthur for an unknown amount of time. Even if you disregard your injuries to make this trip, you cannot disregard your destiny,”

“Except I’m not disregarding anything!” Merlin contended, “Morgana, Lancelot, and Gwen are on babysitting duty while I’m away,”

“And they know about your plan?”

“Lancelot saw the tattoo and I mind-spoke to Morgana as soon as we were in Camelot. She’s fine with me leaving and she’ll tell the others as soon as she can,” Merlin left out the part where Morgana had chided him for planning to go out alone in the woods and generally given him the same warnings Gaius was stating. It would’ve been bad for his argument. 

Gaius pondered all this for a moment, wrinkled hands still turning the staff. If this had been his first week, or perhaps his first month of knowing Merlin he’d keep trying to talk the boy out of his quest until he was blue in the face. But this wasn’t his first month with Merlin. He knew the look in those eyes that meant Merlin was entirely committed to an idea even if it was going to go horribly wrong. The same look glowed in Merlin's eyes now. 

The old man sighed and handed the staff to Merlin, “I know I can’t stop you. I’m not...pleased with your decision but if you need help I will give it to you. Just,” He placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, “be careful,”

Merlin nodded, standing up and grinning his extra wide grin, “I will,”

“Good,” Gaius nodded and removed his hand, “Now we just have to give you a reason to vanish for a long and unknown period of time that won’t raise suspicion,”

“You can say I’m off to study with some other physician for a little while? And that I won’t be back until I’ve mastered some niche thing that nobody here will ask about,”

“Could probably make something up. The castle residents aren’t exactly scientifically literate.” Gaius huffed, “Very well, when do you plan on leaving?”

“Tonight, or early tomorrow morning at the latest. The longer I’m here the more likely I am to get caught up in chores or be under watch by the knights,”

“Why would they be watching you?”

“You saw them earlier, they’re probably establishing shifts to watch over me as we speak,” It wasn’t a large leap of logic. Gaius had almost had to shove the worried knights out earlier so Merlin could get some rest.

“That is possible.” Gaius conceded, “I’ll put together some medical supplies for you. I can’t endorse you leaving so soon after being injured but I can give you the tools to fix whatever damage you do,” 

“Thank you, Gaius,” Merlin smiled sincerely.

Gaius nodded and began bustling about his quarters gathering various small jars, vials, and tools of his trade while Merlin began walking up to his room to get a spare change of clothes or two. Walking with the staff wasn’t perfect, but it kept the majority of his weight off his injured leg so he guessed it was a decent trade.The staff itself was pretty good, almost up to his shoulder and made of strong wood that didn’t bend under his weight. He could probably hit someone very hard with it if he needed to. Merlin really hoped he wouldn’t need to. 

After throwing his clothes and Gaius’ small medical kit into his bag, Merlin sat on the floor beside his bed staring at the loose board below. He could absolutely take the spell book below it along with him, he had enough room in his bag. But he knew enough basic spells to do alright on his own, he only really needed to pull out the book for very specific curses or enchantments. He highly doubted he’d be given any love potions or cursed jewelry on his way to find a druid camp, but there was a good chance Morgana would need it. Merlin doubted assassins, sorcerers, and back-stabbing nobles would politely wait until he’d returned to make their move. And yet, it felt strange to go without the old book. To go into the unknown without it felt like going to sea without a sail. But to take it with him would mean leaving his friends at sea without a boat.

_[Morgana?]_ Merlin called out with his thoughts.

_[Yes?]_ Morgana responded promptly. 

_[I’m leaving soon, I’m leaving the spell book here,]_

Merlin wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard a sigh of relief from her.

_[Thank you, Merlin. Is it still under the loose board?]_

_[Yeah. Good luck while I’m away. Hopefully you won’t need it,]_

_[Hopefully. Good luck to you too. I hope you find the answers you’re looking for,]_

_[Me too,]_ Merlin leaned back on his palms and looked out the window above him. From his spot on the floor he could only see the sky, stained shades of gold and orange and red by the sunset. The same colors found in the reflected light of a bejeweled crown, or a forest fire. He wondered which image was more accurate for his quest. He wasn’t quite sure. Merlin had grown accustomed to having a group of friends looking out for him, even if it was small. Having Morgana, Lancelot, and Gwen by his side meant the world to him. Even if they hadn’t been a full team for long, leaving them and being alone again felt...

Merlin slung his bag over his shoulder and used his staff to push himself to his feet. He could analyze his feelings later, right now he had to move. At any moment Arthur or Gwaine or anyone could bust through Gaius’ door and tie him down to the castle for Goddess knows how long. The sooner he was gone, the better. His and Gaius’ goodbyes went quickly, and soon Merlin was rushing down corridors as fast as he could. He gained speed as he grew more accustomed to the staff, urgency swelling in his heart until it felt like his chest would burst. If he saw a knight he hid, if he saw a servant he kept his head low. He wasn’t sure where the push in his heart was coming from, but all he could think of was the druid tattoo smeared in blood. Druid camps full of magic and people wearing cloaks with hoods too big. A man with glittering eyes and a hood too big, pushing a burning log into Merlin’s leg. 

Merlin snuck out of town efficiently, though his mind was consumed by glittering eyes and bloody symbols that were supposed to mean _safety_ and _peace_. As he crossed the grassy fields, growing further and further away from Camelot’s walls he squinted into the dying, fiery light of the sun and put a name to the feeling began burning in his chest at the thought of being alone again. The thought of losing his closest allies and facing the murderous and the mad without anyone beside him. 

Merlin was terrified.

__________________________

> But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,  
>  Come, you may stand upon my  
>  Back and face your distant destiny,  
>  But seek no haven in my shadow.
> 
> I will give you no hiding place down here.

\- _Maya Angelou, On The Pulse of the Morning (also referred to as The Rock Cries Out To Us Today)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then wonderful reader, how do you feel about Merlin's quest? Do you think he'll find answers? Do you think the answers will be pleasant? Did I manage to write Gaius without making my distaste for him abundantly clear?
> 
> Share your thoughts in the comments! I treasure each one.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me. Stay safe, stay as healthy as you can and don't forget to take care of yourself. You're very dear to me.


	5. Chapter 3: A Rose By Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write "All around me are familiar faces" and so on for the chapter summary but that's way too pretentious, even for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so it's been a while because of some stuff going on but I'm going to try and update faster now since my schedule is a bit more free.

> I’m a tourist, vulnerable and stupid,  
> my legs showing, shoes practical, face red.  
> Together, we try to reconstruct an anecdote  
> whose contents have scattered.

\- Ari Banias, Fountain

__________________________

Wandering through the woods is, even on a good day, a draining experience. Even though the soul may be restored through connecting with nature and listening to the birds’ various calls, the legs and feet may grow weary very quickly. This is especially true when the wanderer in question has an injured leg and is wandering at night. The restorative properties of the forest may prove ineffective should the wanderer be pondering if their closest allies have become bloodthirsty enemies.

As such, Merlin did not feel particularly restored as he stumbled down the forest road to the nearest town. His throat was dry, his feet were sore, and in spite of his staff his leg ached. Still, Merlin refused to rest until he reached the town of Cordes. Cordes had, according to the rumors, started as a single inn at the crossroads of three major roads connecting Camelot, Essetir, and Mercia. The supposed inn thrived due to the many traders and travellers passing through, and so more aspiring entrepreneurs created their own businesses at the site. In spite of the booming business, there weren’t enough permanent residents to be considered a city. Most buildings were inns and bars. In spite of the booming business, not many Camelot patrols passed through the area. The lax security and flow of travelers made Cordes the perfect location for a servant of the royal household to gather information without word getting back to his superiors.

As the trees around him grew thinner, Merlin crested a hill and was able to see the patchwork of straw and wooden roofs. A few caravan camps were scattered around the border. In the distance the Ridge of Ascetir dominated the horizon and glowered down at the town, its people already waking up in the blue-gray light. Merlin sighed with relief and allowed himself to slow a little as he descended. 

Even though he arrived before the sunrise could properly begin, the town was already wide awake by the time he’d reached the first building. The majority of the caravans moving out that day had all their tents packed away, and a few people had ridden past Merlin on their way to the city of Camelot. The scent of bacon and fresh baked bread drifted through the air as he passed an inn with roses and a woman’s face on the sign. Merlin’s stomach rumbled.

_[As good a place as any to look for leads,]_ Merlin thought to himself and went inside. Based on the decor, the inn was doing very well. Based on the amount of empty tables, you wouldn’t know it.

_[Although,]_ Merlin supposed, _[anyone staying in an inn like this probably doesn’t need to be out at dawn,]_

Each table had a small clay jar full of roses and honeysuckles. Above the stone fireplace hung a portrait of a woman with dark, wavy hair and cheeks as red as the roses in her hands. Even though it was just a painting, the lady’s eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth. The fire below crackled merrily, the chairs placed around it draped in rich, dark furs. A staircase led up to where Merlin assumed the guests were sleeping. The bar at the other end of the room practically gleamed from polishing, and the man behind it cleaning mugs looked just as pristine with his hair tied back and tidy beard carefully trimmed. The man’s eyes flickered up from his work for a moment before barking,

“Bess! Greet the customer!”

A girl burst through a door behind the bar, tying her apron as she clumsily stumbled towards Merlin. The man rolled his eyes.

“HellowelcometoDaisy’sIhopeyou'llenjoyyourstayheremayIaskwhatwecandotoeaseyourburdens?” Bess stopped and caught her breath.

“Pardon me?” Merlin asked gently, trying not to laugh at her entrance.

“I, uh…” Bess looked up at Merlin with wide eyes, trying to figure out what she was supposed to say. She looked startlingly like the woman in the portrait, except where the lady was poised Bess was literally and metaphorically unbalanced.

“I’m Bess. You’re at Daisy’s, what do you want?”

The man behind the bar sighed in exasperation.

“I’d just like to sit down for a while,” Merlin smiled, “I thought I smelled something baking?”

“Yeah, we just took some stuff out of the oven,” Bess nodded.

“What kind of stuff did we take out of the oven, Bess?” The man half yelled with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh! Sorry.” Bess grinned bashfully and shrugged, “We made some iumbolls and regular rolls,”

“I would like an iumboll then. Thank you, Bess,”

“You got it!” Bess walked back to the bar, sticking her tongue out at the man before rushing back through the door.

The man leaned against the bar, “I apologize for her, she’s not exactly...gifted at serving customers but she has to learn. Have a seat wherever you like, most patrons that spent the night won’t be down for an hour or two,” 

“Thank you, and it’s no trouble at all,” Merlin nodded and took a seat at a table near the bar and leaned his staff against the table, “Did she say this place was called Daisy’s?”

“Yes,”

“Then what's with all the...” Merlin looked around the room at the red flowers on every table and the roses carved into the side of the bar.

“The roses?”

“Yeah,”

“The woman who started the inn, our grandmother, was Daisy. She was fond of roses. I suppose she thought it would be funny to name the place after one flower and theme it around another. That’s her,” The man nodded at the portrait.

“Sounds like an interesting woman,”

“That’s the rumor,” The man smiled a little.

Bess entered again, this time with much less fanfare and one more iumboll.

“Have a good morning, mister!” She set the plate in front of him before skipping back to, presumably, the kitchen.

“Thank you!” Merlin called after her. Merlin took a bite of the iced cake and pondered his next move. He doubted Bess or the bartender would know anything about druid movements, they seemed pretty preoccupied with the inn. Few of the rich traders staying at inns like Daisy’s would concern themselves with druids. But maybe the caravans outside of town would know something…

“Good morning, sir!”

“Good morning, Beves,”

Merlin froze at the voice coming from the stairs. He knew that voice. He sincerely hoped that voice wouldn’t recognize him.

“Did you sleep well?”

Merlin heard the man coming down the stairs as he spoke, “Yes, the room was very comfortable,”

_[Of all the inns in the town known for having a bunch of inns you picked this one? Seriously?]_

“I’m glad to hear that sir. We just made some rolls and iumbolls, would you like one?”

“I -” The voice stopped short.

_[Shit,]_

“I’ll have what he’s having,”

“One iumboll coming up,”

Merlin tuned out whatever was going on between Bess and Beves behind the bar as the chair across from him was pulled out and the man sat down.

“Hello Merlin,”

Merlin looked up at him, “Hello Gilli,”

Gilli smiled shyly. His face was still boyish in spite of the time that had passed, although he filled out his clothes a bit more. His eyes seemed different though. Less coldly confident, more uncertain. Warm. Maybe the time since the tournament had done Gilli some good.

“So, uh, what are you doing around here?”

Merlin shrugged, “Traveling,”

“You aren’t gonna tell me where?”

“I can’t tell you something I don’t know,”

Gilli squinted, his smile fading in confusion.

“Why are you traveling then? What happened?”

“Some…” Merlin waved his hand vaguely, “Stuff. Stuff happened. I’m trying to figure it out,”

“Uh huh,” Gilli nodded, “And you were huddled over here avoiding looking at me because?”

Merlin winced in embarrassment, “I’m trying not to be seen by too many familiar faces, A-” Merlin glanced at Beves, who was still standing in the kitchen door talking with Bess, “my employer doesn’t know where I am,”

“You think I’ll tell him?”

“I don’t know, I doubt it but it’s just…” Merlin searched for words. There weren’t any. Okay, maybe he didn’t think the avoid-Gilli thing through.

“You were being a little daft?”

Merlin sighed, “Maybe,” he chuckled.

Gilli’s smile returned, “It’s good to see you, friend,”

“You too. How’ve you been?”

“Good. Really good, actually. I’ve been traveling and helping people where I can. No ties, no anchors, just...floating around and doing what needs to be done. I’ve been helping with, uh,” Gilli wiggled his fingers in the air, “too,”

Merlin frowned, “Gilli -”

“Not in the way you’re thinking!” Gilli rushed, raising his hands, “I mean in the kind of way you helped me. Stopping people from hurting other people. Telling them what it’s all about. I’ve been trying to learn what it’s all about too. ” Gilli checked the bar and saw Beves absorbed in his cleaning, “It’s so beautiful, ya know? Flowers and shapes and light, I can fix up my things like that.” He snapped his fingers and leaned back.

Merlin nodded, smiling fondly, “It’s...it’s really great. You’re doing great,”

Bess brought over Gilli’s food. The two ate quietly, catching each other up on their lives. Gilli insisted on paying. He also insisted on Merlin going up to his room to talk.

“I know you’re here for something, I’m here for something too. Even if you don’t want my help I think I need yours,”

Reluctantly, Merlin went upstairs.

“So, what brings you to Cordes?”

“A druid tried to kill us.” Merlin sat on a stool in Gilli’s room, leaning against the wall, “I want to know why,”

Gilli raised his eyebrows, “And by us you mean?”

“Arthur, the knights, me. One messed up my leg,” Merlin gestured to his leg and staff.

“Shit. Yeah that sucks.”

“Yeah. What’s your deal?”

Gilli hesitated, “There was this guy, he was enchanting weapons and selling them to whoever would buy. Lots of bad stuff got into the hands of bad people. I tried to talk him out of continuing, told him about the way magic should be used but…” he looked at the ground, “He wouldn’t listen,”

Gilli meaningfully placed his hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to his belt, “I had to stop him,”

Merlin nodded somberly, “I understand,”

Gilli nodded back, sitting down on his bed, “Afterwards I checked his papers to see who else he’d sold to. That’s how I found him, there was a guy with this poisonous sword and -- nevermind that’s not the point. The point is before I got to him apparently he sent out a shipment of enchanted weapons to an anonymous buyer in Essetir,”

“Because a person from Essetir that’s rich enough to afford a large amount of magical weapons from a shady magical weapons dealer is definitely a good person that can be trusted,”

“Right. So the caravan has to be stopped before it hits Essetir and the buyer picks it up. If the caravan is taking the same routes as most others, they’ll be arriving here today and head out tomorrow,”

“How are you going to stop the shipment?”

“I don’t know yet,”

“Which caravan has the shipment?”

“I don’t know yet,”

Merlin stared at Gilli, “Do you have any idea how to find the caravan or the shipment?”

“Nope.” Gilli winced, “I was hoping you’d have some ideas,”

Merlin sighed, “Yeah, maybe? I can try and...sense the magic? I guess?”

Gilli clapped his hands together, “Great! Let’s go look around,”

“I still need to find the druids”

“We can look for druid clues and shipment clues at the same time,”

“Are you any good at multitasking?”

“Not really. But I’ve got a horse I can share with you once the shipment is settled,”

“Gilli, I’m really busy -”

“Merlin, you’re an injured, unarmed man traveling alone.” Gilli said firmly, “I want to -- no, I’m _going_ to come with you and help you. But I need to stop this shipment. Essetir has a new king and maybe he's different from Cenred but all the lords and rich folks are the same greedy, bloody bastards who’ll use those weapons against innocent people. I can’t stand by and let them hurt people when I know there’s something I can do,”

Merlin chewed the inside of his cheek, deliberating. A horse would mean faster travel, even with two riders. Gilli had been around, he probably knew more non-hostile people in the magical community than Merlin. And he was a friend. And...he had a point. 

Merlin stood, leaning heavily on his staff and smiling at his friend, “Let’s go then, no time to waste,”

__________________________

> Across the courtyard, this T-shirt on a hanger out the window  
> turns in the light breeze as if trying to look behind itself.  
> I’m consumed with not knowing where to buy paper, safety pins, stamps.  
> The window frames of that building are red, emerging from gray gables.

\- Ari Banias, Fountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Gilli!  
> I always thought he deserved a comeback.
> 
> Also, iumbolls are iced almond/caraway shortbread knots, they apparently were made during medieval times. Here’s a really weird recipe for them if you’re intrigued http://recipes.wiglaf.org/rbook/recipe/view/135  
> Frankly, the real dark ages were when we left iumbolls behind, they sound really good.


End file.
